


Photograph

by Kayani_Iriel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayani_Iriel/pseuds/Kayani_Iriel
Summary: Karazhan has many rooms and spots within it for magical workings. Medivh knows them all. Or so he thinks.
Relationships: Khadgar/Medivh (Warcraft)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Photograph

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wabbajacked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wabbajacked/gifts).



Just when he thinks he’s rediscovered every room in the tower, he comes across the darkroom. Tucked away in a side corridor in one of the lower towers, it apparently was a closet at some point, as it’s hardly big enough to store the numerous pieces of equipment lining the closely placed tables.

He runs his hands along those tables, noticing no dust; this room must be frequently used, despite his not knowing about it. The various bottles and flasks are carefully labeled: silver solution, citric acid, ammonia, and others facing in away that he doesn’t bother to turn and read. Tongs lay next to trays, stacks of paper are covered with dust cloths. Everything is neat and orderly, unlike the rest of the keep.

Stepping out, he carefully shuts the door behind him. He’s aware of photography, although it’s an invention that’s fairly new to him. S.E.L.F.I.E. Cameras have become all the rage the past few years, he’s heard the snapshots are being used everywhere now. Not here, not in the tower, of course, but the fewer people here, the better.

A table overflowing with photographs catches his eye as he walks down the hallway. Tucked away in a corner, behind a bookshelf, it would have been easy to miss, if a stack of photographs hadn’t chosen that moment to slide to the floor. The gentle sound of dozens of slippery papers convinces him to at least straighten the stack. It is the kind thing to do, after all.

A quick bend and grab, and a large handful of photographs are in his possession. The first one catches his attention: just a china cup, on a saucer, but caught in the early morning light. Sitting on the sill of one of the many stained glass windows the tower has to offer, the pale bone china is bathed in blues and greens, and almost seems real enough to take from the page.

Curiosity piqued, he leafs through the rest. Most are disappointing: blurry shots of what looks like spells in action; he recognizes arcane blasts and summoning spells, but only out of years of casting those same spells himself. A couple of are of his apprentice’s feet, obvious mistakes taken by accident. Why they were developed, he’s not sure. Practice, perhaps?

He sets the stack down, and goes through more. Maybe one or two shots out of thirty are good, most are blurry, more spells, a few thumbs taking up the shot, still more feet. Several mundane items almost come to life within the shots.

He’s nearly given up on the piles of blurry photographs when he finds it. The shot. It’s of him, or so he assumes. A raven, asleep on the back of a chair. Feathers fluffed out against Karazhan’s constant chill, head twisted to lay on his back, eyes closed, each feather caught in iridescent glory. He reaches out to touch, disappointed when he encounters a smooth surface instead of the ruffle of feathers.

“You found my hobby.” His apprentice has come up behind him, caught him unawares.

“I wasn’t aware you were a photographer.”

“Not a very good one. Not enough time to practice.”

“This is very good.”

“You are a fascinating subject. It helps me take a good photograph.”

“May I have it?”

There’s a long pause while his apprentice studies him. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter now! [@IrielKayani](https://twitter.com/IrielKayani)


End file.
